I am sitting alone in the dimly lit room. It’s almost one in the morning. I am tired. Exhausted. Beat. I know I should sleep, but I can’t. I am waiting. Waiting for the phone to ring. To tell me to go and be with my dying father. Again. In the past two weeks it happened two times. I’ve barely slept since then. You could tell that I am afraid of falling asleep. Somehow I think, if I don’t, then maybe he makes it through another night.
From time to time I go into the other room and check on my daughter. I just listen to her breathing and know that I should be in bed beside her. Because during the day she’s going to need me. Me and not the sleepless, exhausted and emotional wreck that I am right now. I have to take care of her. I have to smile for her sake. I have to be patient. She is a perfectly healthy two years old, with the behavior of a perfectly healthy two years old. She is an energy bomb and I have to keep up with her. And be patient.
I just simply can’t bring myself to lie down in that bed and let myself have a good night’s sleep. Because I am a terrified child myself. Waiting for the phone to ring. I have no tears left. I have no emotions right now. Just these terrible thoughts running like crazy in my head. And I can’t make them stop.
Sometimes I just want this whole thing to be over. What a horrible thought is that? And where does it come from? It comes from a dark dark place inside of me that is fed up. Fed up with the sleepless nights. Fed up with being alone. Fed up to have to cope with everything on my own.
I think of the people I love. My family. My husband. My friends. And I know they would do anything to be able to be here with me right now. But they aren’t. I am alone. Again. And I have to cope. Because of my daughter. For my daughter. Because she will need me in the morning and during the day. And I hope I can be patient this time. That I won’t have to apologize to her again. That she somehow understands that it isn’t her fault.
I am a mess. And I need that sleep right now. But I feel guilty. Guilty to want to sleep as if nothing has happened. Guilty to live my life as if nothing was wrong. Guilty because I know I am not the parent my child needs right now.
But I don’t know how to do this alone. And then, finally exhaustion wins. I sleep. A few hours. And the day passes by. And then in the night, when my daughter is already sound asleep in our bed I am sitting alone in the dimly lit room again and still don’t know what to do.
But we survived another day.
And that is good right now.
......
Annamária Dudás
From time to time I go into the other room and check on my daughter. I just listen to her breathing and know that I should be in bed beside her. Because during the day she’s going to need me. Me and not the sleepless, exhausted and emotional wreck that I am right now. I have to take care of her. I have to smile for her sake. I have to be patient. She is a perfectly healthy two years old, with the behavior of a perfectly healthy two years old. She is an energy bomb and I have to keep up with her. And be patient.
I just simply can’t bring myself to lie down in that bed and let myself have a good night’s sleep. Because I am a terrified child myself. Waiting for the phone to ring. I have no tears left. I have no emotions right now. Just these terrible thoughts running like crazy in my head. And I can’t make them stop.
Sometimes I just want this whole thing to be over. What a horrible thought is that? And where does it come from? It comes from a dark dark place inside of me that is fed up. Fed up with the sleepless nights. Fed up with being alone. Fed up to have to cope with everything on my own.
I think of the people I love. My family. My husband. My friends. And I know they would do anything to be able to be here with me right now. But they aren’t. I am alone. Again. And I have to cope. Because of my daughter. For my daughter. Because she will need me in the morning and during the day. And I hope I can be patient this time. That I won’t have to apologize to her again. That she somehow understands that it isn’t her fault.
I am a mess. And I need that sleep right now. But I feel guilty. Guilty to want to sleep as if nothing has happened. Guilty to live my life as if nothing was wrong. Guilty because I know I am not the parent my child needs right now.
But I don’t know how to do this alone. And then, finally exhaustion wins. I sleep. A few hours. And the day passes by. And then in the night, when my daughter is already sound asleep in our bed I am sitting alone in the dimly lit room again and still don’t know what to do.
But we survived another day.
And that is good right now.
......
Annamária Dudás